Chapter 3 - Shadows in the Service Corridor
The service corridor behind the main kitchens was always cold, smelling faintly of bleach and damp stone. It was midnight, and I had just finished scrubbing the scuff marks off the back stairs when the soft click of heels echoed down the dim hallway. I didn't need to look up from my bucket to know who it was. The sharp scent of expensive French perfume always preceded her.
Vivian Vance stepped out from the shadows near the linen closet, her champagne satin gown replaced by a silk dressing robe, though her diamond tennis bracelet still flashed brilliantly under the flickering overhead bulb. She stopped a few feet away, crossing her arms as she looked down at me with unconcealed venom.
"You think you're clever, don't you?" Vivian hissed, her voice dripping with calculated malice. "Hiding in the servant's quarters, playing the poor, helpless widow with a sweet little angel of a child. Do you think Alessandro didn't see right through your pathetic little act?"
I slowly stood up, wiping my damp hands on my apron, keeping my posture straight despite the exhaustion weighing down my limbs. "I am not acting, Mrs. Vance. I do my work, and I stay out of your way."
"Out of my way?" Vivian laughed, a sharp, ugly sound that bounced off the concrete walls. "You and your brat practically staged a scene in the grand hallway to catch his attention. Alessandro is a man of status, and I am his intended. A common domestic and her bastard child have no place breathing the same air as us."
The word hit a raw nerve, sending a hot flash of protective anger through my chest, but I forced my features to remain utterly calm. Years of survival had taught me that showing emotion to a predator like Vivian was signing a death warrant.
"If you have a problem with my work, you should speak to Mr. Vance," I replied steadily. "He is the master of this estate, not you."
Vivian’s face contorted in rage, her manicured hand darting out to grab the edge of my apron, yanking me forward so our faces were inches apart. "Listen to me very carefully, housekeeper," she whispered, her voice trembling with suppressed fury. "Alessandro only keeps you around because he loves a puzzle. But puzzles get solved, and then they get thrown in the trash. Cross my path again, and I will ensure you and that wretched child of yours are tossed onto the street with not even the clothes on your backs."
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Before I could answer, a low, ominous cough echoed from the far end of the corridor. Vivian froze, instantly releasing my apron and smoothing down her silk robe as Alessandro stepped into the dim light, his black suit immaculate, his expression carved from stone.
"Is there a problem here, Vivian?" Alessandro asked, his voice cutting through the damp air like a razor blade.
